Here's to Feminism
by thatTWWgirl
Summary: An unlikely friendship blossoms during the Santos administration.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Why, hello there! I'm thatTWWgirl, if we haven't been previously acquainted. I mostly write J/D, though this one strays from my usual territory.**

**I mean, yes, it's got J/D too. Because I'm just an incorrigible sap. **

**The main reason I wrote this, however, is because I've previously written some pretty anti-Amy stuff (most of which I've deleted, because... ehh). The thing is, I really don't like Amy as a character, but... I _want_ to. Because she's one of the only solidly proclaimed feminists on the show, and it's wrong of the writers to portray her as so rude and condescending. As a feminist, I was offended.**

**So I wrote this; a little series redeeming Amy's character, her feminism, and a couple other things. At least, that's what my goals were. Pretty lofty, though, eh? **

**I hope you like it, and if you hated Amy on the show as much as I did, perhaps you'll suspend judgment?**

**Reviews: Ooh. Yes please. **

**Disclaimer: They're not mine; a fact that tortures me in the night.**

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"You have a lunch today?"

"Hmm?" I look up distractedly from the schedule my new assistant had helpfully left on my desk.

"I was just wondering if you were free for lunch."

"Oh. Yeah." I smile at Josh, who's hanging around my door frame. "You want to meet up?"

He grins. "I'll have my people call your people."

"Sounds professional."

"We're powerful people."

"Well, I am."

"Alright. I'll call later."

"Okay."

"Love you."

"Love you too." It still brings a slight smile to my face. He ducks out of my office, and I'm left staring down at my schedule once more. I mean, I'd been expecting this meeting, but did it have to be first thing in the morning?

"Good morning, Ms. Moss." My assistant, Jamie, enters through the open door and shuts it behind him.

"Call me Donna, please, Jamie." I remind him. God, it felt weird to have an assistant of my own. Given my own experiences, I'm taking every step to make sure he's treated with the utmost respect.

"Oh... Yeah. Sure thing, Donna." He smiles slightly. "Umm, your first meeting is in a couple minutes."

"Yes. So I see."

"Right."

"Thanks for the schedule."

"No problem."

"You know, I... My old boss." I shake my head, flustered by the sheer irony. "When I was an assistant, I used to print my boss a schedule like this every morning. But he'd always lose it, so he'd just yell for me to tell him where to be."

Jamie gives me a surprised smile. "You were an assistant?"

I laugh lightly. "Only for eight years, Jamie."

He raises his eyebrows. Whatever he would've said next is interrupted by a knock on my door. My stomach twists slightly.

"That'll be your eight o'clock with the Legislative Affairs director."

"Amy Gardner, yes."

"Okay. I'll let her in."

"Yeah."

I stand and walk around my desk as Jamie opens the door, politely showing Amy in before heading back to his own little cubicle.

"Amy. Good morning."

"Hello, Donna." She accepts my handshake, looking around my office curiously. "Wow, did you pull a good one."

I smile. "Yeah, I did. Yours isn't too bad, though?"

"No, not horrific." She says absently.

"That's good. Well, umm, why don't we get to it? You can sit there..." I gesture awkwardly to the chair across from mine, which I make my way back to.

"Right, yeah."

I straighten the files I'd put together for this yesterday, sneaking an inconspicuous glance at her expression. She seems a tad uncomfortable, like myself; most wouldn't notice it under her easy confidence. There's no trace of malevolence, however, which I'm grateful for.

"I'm here to talk over the First Lady's preliminary plans for when we take office, legislatively speaking. What issues she intends to push, any bills she'd be supporting, or even authoring, further down the line."

I furrow my eyebrows. "She can't actually-"

"Author a bill? Oh, no. But she has certain powers of persuasion."

"Right." I smile. "Well, umm, here's the thing. The First Lady and I have been talking about it, and though there are certainly issues she has a stance on, she's just not prepared to declare a clear focus just yet."

Amy nods as though she's not surprised. "Yeah. She hasn't been too politically active in the past, so I didn't expect anything drastic too soon."

"Yeah. There are a few things we've discussed though, if you'd like me to give you the run down?"

"Things you've discussed, or things you've suggested?"

"I'm sorry?"

Amy shrugs. "Donna. The First Lady may not have a clear agenda, but there's no doubt in my mind that you're putting plenty of passion behind it."

I frown slightly. "I've gathered her input, and-"

"No, that's not a critique. That's what she brought you on to do, Donna. And that's why I'm meeting with you, and not her."

I look down at my files, trying not to blush. I remind myself that I'm not an assistant anymore, and that I can stop worrying about overstepping my bounds. I raise my eyes to hers. "You're right. Most of this is me. But Helen Santos is on board, and she gave me the go ahead to present this to you."

Amy smiles. "Well. Let's get to it, then."

Gaining confidence, I return her smile. I hardly need to look down at the file. "Sexual harassment in schools. We've got bills for the workplace, but it starts so much earlier than that. Two out of three girls admits to having been sexually harassed by the time they've graduated high school. We'd like not only for ample counselling to be available, but for a program, teaching young boys about what constitutes harassment, added into the obligatory middle school health class."

"Teaching boys not to harass, instead of-"

"Teaching young girls how not to be harassed? Yes."

There's a look of glee spreading rapidly across Amy's face. "I love it. I love it so much."

I'm taken aback. "You... Really?"

"It's drastic. I like that. It'll be difficult, sure, but there's no way I'd back down from that fight. We can help you out, there."

"Fantastic." The heat is fading from my face, as I fall into my element. "After that, we talked about minority dropout programs, child hunger, battered women's shelters..."

The meeting is completely productive after that, and we speak excitedly on the agenda I'd practically constructed myself within the past two weeks. Some ideas, she supports, others, she's dubious, but the entire thing is courteous and professional. For each of her dissents, she provides sound reasoning, and I soon grow comfortable challenging her. My biggest fear proves to be irrelevant; she treats me as an equal.

It's only as we wrap up for the hour that a subtle awkwardness drifts back into the room. She gathers together her things, and I stand stiffly. It's only as she's ready to leave that I gain the confidence to bridge the silence.

"How are you doing these days, Amy? It's been a while."

She looks at me with a mild surprise. "Oh, I'm fine. I like my position, and I'm really starting to gain confidence in the President-elect."

"Yeah, he's a good man... And outside of work? You're well?"

I'm afraid I may have crossed a line, but she doesn't seem offended by my inquiry. "Yeah. I'm well. Weather's crummy, so I haven't been able to cycle, but I tried yoga the other day."

"How was it?"

"Somehow, I don't think it's my thing."

I find myself laughing, and it's genuine. "Ah, well. It grows on you. I went for a while in college. These days I just run."

"Ah. That's good." She smiles as well, and after a moment she clears her throat. "And you? You're well?"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely." Never better.

"You got back from vacation a couple weeks ago, didn't you?"

Danger, Will Robinson! "Oh... Yeah, I did."

"Where'd you go, again?"

I attempt to analyze her expression, and I think I may have been wrong to assume that she's being passive aggressive. "Hawaii."

"Ahh. Is it nice there, even in December?"

I smile indulgently. "Beautiful, actually."

"Sounds nice." She returns my smile.

"Yeah."

"Well, I'll let you get on with your day." She jerks a thumb over her shoulder toward the door.

"It was good to see you, Amy."

"You too, Donna."

The strange thing is, I don't think either of us is lying.

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The next time I'm alone with Amy Gardner, it's a run-in in the transition office elevator a few days before inauguration. Everyone is tightly wound, this close to the big day, and I'm no exception.

"Hey, Donna."

I look up from the memo I'd been absorbed in. "Oh. Hi, Amy."

She looks over at the elevator buttons, and we must be headed for the same floor, because she doesn't push anything. "Ready for Thursday?"

I laugh dryly. "Is anyone?"

"It's doubtful."

"There's just so much to do! I mean, I thought I was busy when I was an assistant the past two times..."

"You were." She says with slight amusement. "Trust me, running Josh's office, and running Josh, was enough to keep you on your toes. Most assistants weren't swamped that way, but you were practically a member of senior staff."

I look at her in surprise. "You think?"

"Oh yeah."

I snort. "Well, I'm still running Josh, and the job certainly comes with its own hurtles." I really hadn't meant to slip in the Josh comment. I hadn't. I brace myself for a tension that doesn't come.

"Oh, I remember that all right. People severely underestimate the office of the First Lady, that I can say for sure."

I give her an appraising glance. "Don't I know it. The only questions my press secretary's been getting are about Mrs. Santos' wardrobe for Thursday."

"Oh, god. How's she handling it?"

"Well, it's Annabeth. She loves this stuff, actually. She has much more patience for it than I do."

"You and me both." Amy shakes her head. After having stopped numerous times to collect and deposit staffers, we finally reach our floor. We exit the elevator together. "That does remind me, though, I still don't have a ball gown for the occasion."

I'm hit with a sudden panic. I smack one hand against my forehead. "Oh, god! I don't either! I haven't even had time to think about it."

She raises her eyebrows at me. "Is that really so surprising, with how busy you are?"

I smile slightly. "I guess not, it's just... I always plan this kind of stuff. I'm a complete perfectionist, and I used to really love the nice, meticulous wardrobe planning for balls, and galas, and everything."

She laughs. "Can't say I'm the same way, but I do love a good dress hunt every now and again."

"Yeah. I used to go with CJ Cregg, but I doubt we'll find the time in the next few days."

"We could go together." She throws out offhandedly, and for a moment I'm so stunned I nearly trip over the office carpet. "If you're looking for a second opinion. I could definitely use one."

I'm surprised not only by the invitation, but by just how taken I am with the idea. I smile widely. "Yeah. Okay, sounds good."

"When can you make the time?"

"Umm, are you free for lunch?"

She furrows her brow for a moment. "Yeah. My deputy can take my 1:00, and then we'd have two hours."

"Great, I think... Yeah, I can push a couple things back. All in the name of fashion." I can't believe I just said that. "Meet me in the lobby?"

She smiles, with no trace of condescension. "Yeah. Sure thing."

"Okay, see you."

We both turn off the hallway in our respective directions, and I smile at Jamie as I pass. "Can you get Josh on the phone for me, Jamie?"

"Yeah."

I head into my office and start to sort through the files I'd received in my last meeting.

"He's on line one."

"Thanks, Jamie." I pick up the phone. "Hey."

"Hey, what's up?"

"I can't do lunch today."

"Why not?"

I'm not going to lie, I'm a little endeared by the disappointment in his voice. "Something came up."

"Something that's more important than me?"

"Well, most things are."

"Yeah, yeah. What is it?"

"You're going to make fun of me."

I'm almost sure I can hear the excitement in his pause. "...No I won't."

"I'm going dress shopping."

"You're... what?"

"I'm going shopping, Josh."

"Why?"

"I need a new dress."

"For what?"

"The inauguration."

"Why?"

"Because I do."

"Well, fine, but that's something I really don't understand about women."

"Among many other things."

"I just mean, I can wear the same tuxedo to every event for the next four years, and no one will care. But women need a different dress for every damn thing..."

"And heels to match."

"Whatever. Exactly."

"It is pretty sexist, isn't it?"

"It's lunacy, that's what it is."

"Okay, baby. Either way, I can't do lunch."

There's another pause on his end. "Now it pains me to say this... But I could go with you."

"...You'd go dress shopping with me?" I ask, utterly shocked.

"Okay, you don't have to act so-"

"Aw, Josh!"

"Yes, I know, I'm a great guy."

"That's so sweet!"

"Donna-"

"But you can't."

"I... what?"

"You can't come."

"Why not? I promise I won't whine that much."

"That's not-"

"I actually quite enjoy watching you try things on."

I can't help a grin. "As heartfelt as that sentiment is, you still can't come."

"Why?"

"I'm going with someone else."

"Who?"

"A friend."

"CJ?"

"...No."

"Who, then?"

"I have plenty of other friends, Josh-"

"I know, and that's why I can't keep track of them."

"I'm going with Amy."

"Amy who?"

"Amy Gardner, Josh."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"You still there?"

"Are we... Are we talking about the same Amy Gardner?"

"The Legislative Affairs one? Yes. That'd be her."

"My ex-girlfriend?"

"Oh, you know, I'd forgotten that detail."

"Donna."

"Josh."

"You... Why are you..."

"That 760 verbal SAT you have never ceases to amaze me, you know that?"

"You're not funny."

"I don't know, I think I'm pretty witty. See what I just did there? I rhymed. I also happen to be pretty _and_ witty-"

"Donna. I'm serious."

"About what?"

"About... You said 'a friend'."

"Yes. I did."

"And then you said Amy."

"I did."

"And I just... There must be some mental disconnect here."

"I think that's all you, my love."

"Donna."

"I have to go, okay? My eleven o'clock is here."

"It's ten forty-five."

"Goodbye, Joshua."

I hang up the phone, slightly flustered. I'll admit that there's a part of me engaging in a sort of mental diabolical laughter, but I'm also a bit confused. He had a point. Combined, the three of us had an interesting history. But I don't know... I've never hated Amy. I had always been a bit biased against her in any of her disagreements with Josh, but now? I can't see why there's any reason not to get a fresh start with the relationship. I have no grudge here; I got the guy, didn't I?

And, well, as always, I'm on a mission to make everyone like me. What can I say? I like people. I'm a people-person.

That's it. I've decided. I'm doing it. I am befriending Amy Gardner.

And if that bothers Josh? Well, he can very well get over it.

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"Oh. My. God. That's the one. That's it. You're a bombshell." I lean forward on the boutique store couch, nearly spilling my wine. Yes, indeed, we were in one those establishments so pretentious that your dress-shopping came with proffered alcohol.

"You think?" Amy turns to look in the mirror, eyebrows cocked. "I don't know."

"What do you mean 'you don't know'? You look _amazing_." And she did. The green dress fit like a glove, hugging all the right places and draping gracefully.

"Do you think it's a bit... Much?"

I furrow my brow. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, it's just that one time I made the mistake of following Josh around the White House in a tight red dress, and every time I look back on it... I've never felt more unprofessional in my life."

I wave a hand. "Oh, please. I say use what you've got to your advantage. Don't be shamed by men, by other women, whoever. You look good in it, you feel good in it, wear it."

She points a finger at me. "You're right, Donna Moss. You are so right. We're powerful women. And we deserve to look damn good."

"Damn right."

I'll admit it. We've been hitting the designer dress store wine pretty heavily.

She flops back onto the couch beside me. "Your turn."

"Don't you want to change back into your suit?"

"No, I think I'll wear this to work." She rolls her eyes at me.

"Right. You'll change later?"

"Go put on a nice dress, Donna."

"Okay." I smile softly, pulling the first dress off of a stack that the shop assistant had piled into my arms.

I emerge meekly a few minutes later.

Amy raises her eyebrows. "No."

"It's so..." I stand in front of the mirror, swishing the black skirt. "Grim."

"You look like you're going to the Queen's funeral. Next option."

"Right." I grab a blue dress.

Amy's expression when I emerge is much the same as last time.

"You look like a Barbie doll."

"In a good way?" I ask hopefully, turning to examine my reflection. "Never mind."

She rises from the couch precariously, coming to stand behind me. Beside her, I look like some sort of ice princess.

"You look fourteen."

"Yeah."

"This is your first big appearance. You need to radiate power."

"...Have you met me?" I ask incredulously.

"I think you can do it." She says firmly, heading back to sort through my choices. She hands me one. "Try this."

I oblige. I don't know what it is, but her critiques don't offend me. She's honest, and I like that. It's helpful... Something a friend would do.

"Yes." She sets her wine glass down with a clink as I exit the changing room. "Yes, yes, yes. Look at yourself."

She'd chosen the silver gray one for me, which I probably wouldn't have gone for myself, but she's right. I look... Good.

"Am I radiating power?"

She smirks. "I think so."

I grin. I look poised, sophisticated, intelligent... All the things I need to be on Thursday.

"Nobody will be able to take their eyes off of you."

"You think?"

"Oh yeah. Josh especially."

I feel a slight blush creeping over me, but I fight it back. If she can bridge the awkwardness, then so can I.

"Eyes, among other things." She adds, taking a sip of wine.

I laugh nervously. "I think I'll go with 'it makes me look powerful'."

"Fair enough."

I head back to the couch, sinking into the cushions. "So that's that."

"We have dresses."

"We look good."

"We look really good."

"I don't want to go back to work."

"We could play hookie." She suggests absently.

"Mm. It's an idea."

We both smile. It's a while before either of us speaks again.

"I don't have many female friends, Donna."

I raise my eyebrows. "No?"

"Don't pretend you're surprised."

I shrug. "Okay."

"And it's rather ironic for a feminist, don't you think?"

I shrug again. My head lolls to one side on the back of the sofa, and I give her a charming grin. "As it so happens, I'm in the market."

"Oh really?"

"CJ's moving to California, I lost touch with most people over the course of the campaign... Or even before that, I guess."

"Look's like we've got a deal, then."

"I should think so."

We shake hands with faint amusement.

"This isn't weird, is it?"

"What?"

"You and I. It's not weird for you, is it? I noticed you tense up when I made that comment about Josh-"

I shake my head, effectively cutting her off. "Amy, it doesn't bother me. If you're content to let bygones be bygones, so am I."

"Well. Okay then."

"Josh is irrelevant to us. Whoever said that two women have to hold petty disdain for each other just because at one point in time, they liked the same man? It's stupid, it trivializes female morality, and it centers around the idea that our lives revolve around the men in them."

"Spoken like a true feminist."

"I get very social justicey when I'm tipsy."

"Social justicey?"

"Can we pretend that's a word?"

"Sure thing." She's smiling widely.

"I say, sisterhood."

"Sisterhood." She echoes thoughtfully. "I'll drink to that."

I raise my glass. "To sisterhood-"

"-and feminism."

We clink our glasses. "Cheers."

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It's late one night, in week two of the administration, that Josh creeps in the doorway as quietly as possible. From where I sit watching CSPAN on the couch, I hear him anyway. I call out without turning around.

"Hey, baby."

His footsteps pause before heading around the living room doorway. "You're up."

I can hear the grin in his voice. "Does this disappoint you?"

"I told you not to wait up for me."

"Mm, well. I've always been a rebel."

He swings over the back of the couch, which I'm constantly telling him not to do. (_"It's not impressive, and you're damaging the furniture"_). Alright. So it's a little impressive.

"Yeah, well. There are numerous ticks on your FBI file that attest to it."

"I'm reckless." Contentedly, I wrap my arms around him. Despite having been out in the cold, he's warmer than I am.

"I'm talking parking tickets on top of parking tickets, Donnatella."

"Which reminds me, there's something I need to tell you..."

"You're kidding."

"There were no spaces outside Starbucks this morning, Josh."

"I let you drive my car..."

"It's a nice car."

"I'm a nice guy."

"Yeah." Absently, I stretch up to kiss his jawline. I'm quite sure I've avoided any further harassment about the parking ticket, as he lifts one hand to the side of my face. The kiss he gives me is very appropriately _I-haven't-seen-you-all-day-and-I'm-dying._

"So how was your day?" I ask idly, drawing back an inch.

"Long." His hand has moved from my face; it's gone exploring. He's kissing his way down my neck. It's quite enjoyable, really, but I'm the image of casualty.

"I missed you at lunch."

"Mm." He's hardly listening. Perfect. I shift to his lap and get rid of his tie.

"But I ate with someone else."

"Sorry."

"No, it was nice." I'm halfway through the buttons. "I like Amy."

It takes him a minute to process this, and when he does, he freezes. He raises his lips from my collarbone, _dammit_, and his hand falls from my breast, _dammit_. "You want to talk about this now?"

He saw right through me. "Now's as good a time as any." It really isn't. I mean, come on, I'm on his lap. I'd gotten pretty into my "distraction", too, ya know, but I suppose there's no going back now.

"It really isn't."

I shrug. "Well, now's when we're talking about it."

Maybe it'll motivate him to hurry along and come around to my way of thinking. And then we can move on to bigger and better things.

"Donna..."

"We've been spending a lot of time together. We're becoming good friends."

"You like her?"

"I do."

"Why?"

I scowl at him, leaning back a bit. "Because she's nice, and intelligent, and not everything revolves around you."

"That's not what I..." He casts about for the right words. "It doesn't bother you?"

"Why would it?"

"Because I... Because we used to... You're not jealous?"

"Do I have anything to be jealous of?" I raise my eyebrows.

"No." He says easily.

I shrug, grinning. "Didn't think so."

Hoping that's the end of it, I lean down to kiss him again, but he pulls away after a moment.

"Why are you so intent on befriending my exes? Mandy, Joey Lucas, that woman from my college reunion three years ago... And we weren't even together then."

I sigh, rolling sideways off his lap. Evidently, we're not done here. "I'm a people person, Josh."

"I mean, I pretty much hate everyone you've ever dated."

"Dated? Josh, you threatened a guy who looked at me for too long during the inaugural balls with a baseball bat."

"Just goes to show-"

"That you're a petty, jealous jackass? Well, I'm not, so you should get used to it."

"I'm just sayin', soon, the only one you'll have left to cross off the list is the girl who taught me to French kiss in tenth grade."

"Well." I stand up, heading into the kitchen for god knows what. "Maybe I should give her a call, seeing as I've got a lot to thank her for."

He follows me doggedly. "Donna..."

What did I come in here for? I grab a glass and pour myself some water. "Does it bother you?"

"Does it bother... Does you befriending my exes bother me?"

"Amy in particular, but yes." I hop up on the counter, slightly nervous about his answer.

"I mean... Yeah."

"Because you're tempted?"

"I... What?" He's staring at me, open mouthed. He looks a little ridiculous, shirt half-on and hair all over the place, but I don't laugh. I gaze down at the glass in my hands.

"If she's around more often, you're not tempted to... You're not reminded of-"

"_No_." He interrupts me firmly. "Donna, no."

I raise my eyes tentatively. "No?"

He looks almost offended at my suggestion. He comes to stand in front of me, hands resting lightly on my waist. "That's ridiculous."

"Don't call me ridiculous."

"I'm _reminded_ of what massive mistakes I made. I'm reminded that I spent nearly nine years with my head up my ass, and I'm pretty embarrassed that I spent it with women like that. Because compared to you... God, it's all crap, Donna."

Ah, crap. Now he's got me grinning like a sap. How does he do that? It's the eyes. "Yeah?"

"You can be friends with Amy if you want. I don't care. Just know that it was always you, okay? It was always you."

This has gone off far better than expected. "I love you."

"I love you too."

I kiss him again, but it's slower this time. After a moment, I pull back, unable to keep myself from saying, "It is what I want, by the way. To be friends with Amy."

He feigns a groan, leaning his forehead against my shoulder. "Just, no double dates, okay?"

"No promises."

And then we're off to bigger and better things.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here's part two, from another POV.**

**Disclaimer- I like to think I'm prettier than Sorkin, though I could be wrong. **

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I quite like Donna Moss, you know that? You probably don't know that. It's because I hide it very well. And during my Josh phase, I was incessantly searching for any reason _not_ to like her. It didn't really work. I'd convince myself of her flaws out of an irrepressible jealousy, but honestly? She's a likable person.

Perhaps I condescended to her to make myself feel superior (it's a bad habit, okay?), but as I got over my affection for her former boss, I happened across a deep-seated respect. Here was the type of woman I fought for in my day-to-day; hardworking, compassionate, and struggling to break even. She was intelligent, she was capable, and she'd finally taken the leap and put her career first.

I like that we're different. I like the way she's strong, without being mean. I like the way she embraces femininity without letting it hinder her. I like that she wears pink and went a lot of bad dates out of a childlike romanticism, that she's nervous and girlish and idealistic, I like that absolutely none of that gets in the way of her being a powerful woman. I like her down-to-earth compassion that those who have been in politics too long often trivialize, I like that she often highlights the trivial.

To reiterate; I like her. I like her a lot.

And if you think that any of that should be weighed against the fact that she's now dating my ex-boyfriend? Well, you're wrong. You're just wrong.

I actually quite like Josh and Donna together. I know, I'm full of surprises today, aren't I? I like the way they unabashedly claim seats next to each other in meetings, I like the way they bicker, I like the way they've got pictures of each other on their desks. I like the way she tucks her fingers in his belt loops when they kiss, I like the way he smiles when he's around her. I like that one time they played hookie to a meeting with the freshmen democratic congressmen to make out near the Jefferson memorial like teenagers. (_"We wanted to go sight-seeing, okay?" - "You've lived here for twelve years!" - "Would you keep your pants on, Sam?"_).

To reiterate; I like them. I like them a lot.

I just find it incredibly amusing that they'd spent years denying it, that they'd dated other people (myself included), that they'd deluded themselves for so long, when happiness was just a desk away. I mean really, talk about sappy, carefree romance. It's hysterical. Perhaps they can't see the humor in the time wasted just yet, but I can. I'm absolutely tickled. I mean, people are idiots, you know?

As for myself, I've certainly got reason enough not to be bothered by their relationship. That's right. It's the "lumberjack". He's actually an artisan carpenter, but that's neither here nor there. His name is Lance, and believe me when I say I'm _fully aware _that he's exactly the opposite of who anyone expected me to end up with.

He's so... _carefree_. He's relaxed, and easygoing, and just sort of laughs it off when I've sunk too deeply into a political spiral. He's opinionated, one of those green-party, liberal-to-the-bone ex-hippies who always recycles and just wants everyone to "live in harmony, man." I know. I know. He is not my type. For gods sake, the man wears _jeans_ to work.

But when I met him on the national mall, handing out green peace pamphlets, there was just something undeniable. He was so calm, so off-puttingly sarcastic and filled with charm. I don't know. It was strange. I liked making the time for someone with time to spare, someone whose IQ was off the charts but was content to just make his Eco-friendly, custom rocking chairs. We held worldly discussions. He taught me the importance of things I'd forgotten. And when I was around him, we were in another world.

Needless to say, I forgot all about Josh Lyman. I mean, who wouldn't? Lance and I don't have that same partners-in-crime dynamic that Josh and Donna have, but I like what we are. I like our balance. And my newfound happiness left me open to feeling the same warmth toward theirs.

Like I said, I like Donna Moss. And when we started to kindle a friendship, I found myself gifted with an opportunity. Finally, I could correct my years of feminist-in-name-only condescension, my petty jealousy, my blindness. And I got a new friend out of it, which, let's be honest, I really needed. Because current and ex-boyfriends aside, two amazing women shouldn't miss out on the chance to be amazing together, and lift each other up in place of competing.

Feminism, kids.

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"Sam and I were talking about that... The lead-up. He envisions great, idealistic oratory on the future of our nation. I'm telling you, he's been in his position two and half months now, and he'll never be anything but a speechwriter at heart."

I smile. "He's not wrong. If we can get the public all starry-eyed and emotional before we pitch the specifics of the bill, education'll go off without a hitch."

"Especially if Sam writes it." Donna leans forward on the couch to shrug off her suit jacket. "I've taken to reading his old speeches and quoting them at him in the hallways."

"To embarrass or flatter?"

"Both." She grins. "Sometimes I'll feed him an eloquent line and he'll light up, sometimes I'll take one from a 1997 stump speech that he wrote at four in the morning."

I laugh. "Yeah, some of those were a rather rigorous regiment of freedom, change, and bullshit."

"Rather rigorous regiment? I think you should write the speech."

"I do have a way with words." I say dryly, and she laughs, which I'm glad for. We're here in her apartment (which was once solely Josh's) after work, and I'd be lying if I said the intention of the evening wasn't to cheer her up. It's going to be a full blown chick flick, booze, and ice cream type night, and it's all thanks to one mysoginistic asshole of a gossip columnist (_"She's a woman, Amy." - "Women can be mysoginistic assholes too, Donna, make no mistake."_).

We'd just passed the Sexual Harassment in Schools bill a week ago, and in the midst of our celebration, the piece had crawled out of the depths of... Somewhere. It targeted Donna. The columnist analyzed her appointment to the position of Helen Santos' chief of staff, her relationship with Josh, and drew the conclusion that she'd slept her way to the top. Everyone in the White House knew it was bullshit, and had readily assured her as such, but it had gotten some attention publicly and she was taking it pretty harshly. She'd been rather dejected lately; she's tried to hide it, but we've all noticed.

That's right. We passed a bill against sexual harassment, and the bill's main proponent is immediately sexually harassed in the press. How's that for irony?

"How are the specifics going, anyway? With the education bill?" Donna flops back onto her sofa, not the least bit gracefully.

I shrug, turning in the armchair to drape my legs over the side. "Not too bad. There are a couple fickle constitutionalities, but we're working around them."

"Good to know."

We share a smile, and from the entryway we hear the sound of the door being unlocked.

"That'll be Josh."

"He's not working late?"

She shakes her head. "His thing with Jenkins was cancelled."

I nod. So much for a girls night.

Josh rounds the corner, and takes in the fact that I'm in his living room.

"Hi, baby."

He returns his gaze to Donna, strolling over to stand beside her. "Hey."

"How's it going?"

"There's another person in our house."

"Yes."

"And when we were on the phone twenty minutes ago, you didn't think to mention that?"

She smiles. "No."

"Ah-kay." He bends down to kiss her briefly, looking back to me when he straightens up. "Hi, Amy."

"Howdy, partner." I grin at him crookedly.

Donna idly grabs one of his hands. "We're going to get drunk and watch a chick-flick."

"Oh, fantastic." He replies sarcastically. "My ideal evening, as always."

"Better than working, right?"

"That's entirely debatable."

"Hey, you know what'd be nice?"

"If we did pretty much anything else, preferably without the third wheel?"

"You'd be referring to yourself, there." I rebuke.

Donna gives me an approving smile. "It'd be _nice_ of you to pour me some wine."

He rolls his eyes. "Why not? I live to serve."

He makes his way to the kitchen.

Donna turns to me. "Amy, white or red for you?"

"Hmm. White."

"JOSH-"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard her!" He yells back, and we both grin.

"He's so whipped." I mutter conspiratorially.

She shrugs. "I know."

He returns with wineglasses, though I have no doubt that we'll be bringing out the bottle pretty soon. We decide on something terribly emotional, with Josh complaining throughout the entire selection process. He's so full of shit. We both know he doesn't watch movies with Donna for their cinematic quality.

"I'm going to go change into-"

"-my clothes?"

"Yeah." She ruffles his hair on her way into their room, leaving Josh and I to stare awkwardly at a preview for something about kidnapping.

He gives me a sideways glance. "So why aren't you at home?"

"Lance was meeting up with an old friend. I didn't fancy myself arm candy for the evening." I swill my wine, not meeting his eyes.

I can feel his gaze on me for a moment longer. "Okay."

We return to staring at the screen in silence until Donna returns, indeed wearing Josh's boxers better than he ever will. She curls up against him on the couch. He wraps an arm around her contentedly, her head on his chest; and this, my friends, is why Josh Lyman watches more chick flicks than he'll ever admit to. _So whipped_.

We watch the bad movie happily, our commentary soon petering out. I was right about the wine, Donna goes through most of the bottle on her own. She's asleep by the end of the movie, and Josh actually carries her to bed. It's almost excessively romantic, really, but I'm endeared by it nonetheless.

I've just finished putting on my shoes when I look up to see Josh watching me, arms folded and leaning against the doorway.

"Lance wasn't out with a friend tonight."

I meet his gaze steadily. "No. He wasn't."

He runs one hand through his hair. "Look, Amy... This article. It really hit her hard, and I've tried to tell her what crap it is, but coming from me... I guess what I'm saying, is that I'm glad she's had you on her side. It's helped."

I realize that this as close as Josh will ever come to admitting that there are some things I can do that he can't. I mentally catalog the moment. "Yeah. Of course. It was an awful piece, and she didn't deserve it."

"Yeah... Yeah." He looks down at the ground.

I recognize his shifty expression suddenly as guilt. "It's not your fault, Josh."

He gives me a wry smile. "Yes it is, Amy."

"She doesn't see it that way."

"I do."

For the life of me, I can't think of a response.

"But, look... I'm glad you two are friends."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "I am too."

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Maybe we didn't grow close quickly, or maybe Donna was just a very private person, but for the first few months of our friendship, there were very few secrets that I was in on. None, actually. I liked to think that she wasn't still holding out reservations on my morality by then, but I really don't know. I shared a few with her. She made brief, impersonal references to her past on occasion. I came to realize that Donna really hadn't lived much life before she came to work for Bartlet, and what little she'd done, she wasn't proud of. I pass no judgment on this; for god's sake, she was twenty four.

My biggest insight into her past came unasked, perhaps even unwanted. I was definitely unprepared, to say the least. But, as most surprises in life, it didn't really take any of this into account before occurring.

It started out as a fairly normal Tuesday morning.

The First Lady had started the push on her next big issue, domestic violence. I had decided to tag along to Donna's conference on battered women's shelters that day, out of passion for my old field of work. We'd planned to make a day of it, grabbing coffee and bagels beforehand, constructing a legislative game plan after lunch. We didn't make it that far.

The building was across town, in a social programs management facility. We had a pleasant first session, it was productive, educational, and both Donna and I were quite poised, if I do say so myself. We hit rough waters around eleven.

One of the coordinators felt it crucial to bring in a domestic violence victim, in order for her to share her first hand account. This was to add a human aspect to what we were doing, as if it wasn't already real enough for a room that was three fourths women.

The woman, showing unbelievable strength, recounted her year long struggle with abuse, and about midway through I began to notice Donna shaking. I knew she was empathetic, affected by these types of things, but I was a little worried nonetheless. It got worse. She was pale, and biting her lip so hard I feared she'd draw blood.

"Hey, are you okay?" I whispered.

She nodded almost imperceptibly. The instant the woman finished, she bolted out of her chair, muttering something about water.

I found her on the floor of the bathroom, knees drawn up to her chest and eyes shut tight.

"Donna?"

She doesn't respond. I crouch beside her. "Hey, Donna, are you-"

She comes to life at my touch, flinching away from my hand on her shoulder. Surprised, I move away. After a moment, I stand back up.

"I'll be right back."

Her eyes open confusedly, and I have to tear my gaze away from her expression, stumbling out the door into the hallway. I do the only thing I can think of. I call Josh.

He's in the middle of a meeting, but answers my call exasperatedly. I tell him, haltingly, what happened, and within an instant he's on his way.

He must've driven across town like a mad man, because according to my watch, he's here within seven minutes. I doubt he even stopped for red lights.

I meet him in the lobby. His eyes are wide and anxious. "Where is she?"

"She's in the bathroom, she-"

But he's no longer paying any attention to me, speeding in the direction I've pointed. I jog to catch up.

"Josh, I don't know what happened, she was fine all morning, but when the woman-"

"Her ex-boyfriend." He mutters distractedly, pulling the door open. That's all the explanation I'm given, but it's enough. He crosses the bathroom, sinking onto the tile floor beside her with no hesitation. I'm immobile as I watch him pull her into his arms, watch her shake and curl against him. I realize that it's not my place to watch.

I've never felt more useless than I have standing outside that bathroom. I lean against the wall, contemplating this new information, my train of thought occasionally interrupted by a need to spring forward and say "Oh no, you can't go in there. Why? Umm. A pipe burst? Or something? Yeah, I think there's one upstairs. Yes, I work for the plumbing service. Yes, it would've been easier to just put up a sign. I'll lodge a complaint with management. Okay, you have a good one."

I mean, if I were to think about it deeply, it made sense. It must've been a long time ago, as the signs are faded, but it's not out of the realm of possibility. Certain things about her make sense; an odd, intermittent timidity, nervousness. A lapse of self-worth, I remember from our earlier days of acquaintance, that she's only recently begun to bridge.

It makes me sick to think about it.

I'm overcome with respect for this woman, for my friend. How much she's had to overcome, the bravery it took to start a new life as someone's assistant, states away from the man she'd dropped out of college for.

And what else, I've never felt more appreciation towards Josh Lyman in my life. I've never been more grateful that Donna has someone who'll rush across town in seven minutes flat to hold her on a bathroom floor. Someone whose brow is furrowed with concern each time a slight limp returns, who calls just to hear her voice, who fights the "I love you more" fight with her every damn time, despite the fact that they're both over thirty. Someone who cares for her so, so deeply.

She deserves that.

I'm slightly startled by their emergence, standing up from the bench I'd dragged across from the door. Donna is pale but smiling uncomfortably, holding onto Josh's hand tightly.

"Are you okay?" I ask nervously.

"Yeah, no, I was just... It was stupid." She shakes her head slightly, flustered.

"No it wasn't." I say firmly. "Donna, it wasn't stupid."

She doesn't look at me.

"Do you want to go home?" Josh asks, watching her carefully.

She shakes her head. "I want to finish the meetings."

"Because I can take off work-"

"Josh."

"Yeah?"

"Who exactly was in that meeting that you sprinted out of?"

He shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Uhh, the President of South Korea."

She smiles wanly. "Go back to work, okay? I'll be fine."

He seems reluctant. "You'll call me between meetings?"

"Yeah."

"You'll drink plenty of water?"

"What does that have to do with - yes. I'll drink plenty of water."

"Take the elevator, not the stairs."

"What?"

"Or call me, and I'll come carry you."

"Josh-"

"I'm serious."

"You're ridiculous."

"Don't do drugs. Stay in school."

Whatever he's doing, it's working. She's gone from shaken to somewhere between amused and exasperated.

"Go back to work."

"Ah-kay." He pulls her tightly into a hug, giving me a significant look over the top of her head. Pretty sure that I know what it means, I nod. He pulls away. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"See? You're addled. Dehydrated. Drink something, call me if you need anything." He waves and heads back toward the lobby, casting a few glances over his shoulder as he goes.

In the silence that follows, she avoids my gaze. She looks a little lost without his arms around her, and it's all I can do to step in. I pull her into a hug of my own.

She's stiff, at first, a little surprised by the gesture, but soon returns the embrace tightly. This might be the first time I've shown such a display of affection. I'm a good four inches shorter than her, of course, but she feels almost fragile in my arms. She lets go of a shuddering breath.

"Well. This is embarrassing." She attempts a breathy laugh. My heart twinges painfully.

"It is _not_ embarrassing. For gods sake! The only person this reflects badly on is the asshole you dumped ten years ago." I'm so angry. I shouldn't be this angry.

"I... Yeah." Her voice is so small. We're both shaking a little bit.

"If I wasn't motivated to get this legislation before, I sure as hell am now." I growl.

"You're a good friend."

There's such sincerity in her voice, my anger practically melts away. "Thanks."

We pull back, and I smile at her gently. We head back upstairs to the meetings, and finish out the day strong. When I notice her eyes glossing over, I grip her hand under the table, and she gives me a slight smile.

Josh is waiting outside the building at the end of the day, but she doesn't run into his arms. She walks calmly to the car, says_ "nailed it" _and climbs inside. He grins at me, the only other person around to revel in her victory. He shrugs, _"there's no breaking her, ya know?"_

I do know.

To no one's surprise, the bill is passed in less than two months. Try as Josh and I might to intimidate various members of congress into doing the right thing, she has an excess of votes locked down all on her own. As I was coming to learn, the Bambi-esque blonde from Wisconsin didn't need _anyone's_ protection.

Which is why it was altogether more endearing that she let us protect her now and again, anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: And here we have part three. I'm kind of enjoying this fic, ya know?**

**Disclaimer- Ha. Ha. Not mine.**

**If I don't laugh, I'll cry.**

**Ha. Ha.**

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"Hey, girl." I swing around the doorframe charismatically. Alright, that sounded bad even to my ears.

Amy gives me a strange look before shrugging it off. I guess I'm pretty strange on a good day. "Hi, Donna."

As she resumes sifting through files, I come in and take a seat on her couch. "How are you?"

She squints suspiciously. "I'm fine."

I feign innocence. "What? I can't ask how a friend of mine is doing?"

"Sure you can, but twice in an hour?"

Alright, so I called. That doesn't prove anything. "I'm just being... Caring."

"You're being weird."

Is it that obvious? "No I'm not."

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, Donna."

Alright, fine. Subtly is not my forte. "We still on for tonight?"

This elicits a smile. "Yeah."

"We'll bring the booze."

"We'll have food."

"Pizza?"

"You read my mind."

Josh and I are coming over to Amy and Lance's townhouse tonight. It started with us both wanting to watch an Eleanor Roosevelt special on the history channel, which was (of course) followed by Josh complaining about being home alone, and then we sort of made an evening of it. It should be fun, though we might have to tape Josh to a chair to keep him from changing the channel to the Mets game he's been on about.

"Sounds good. Though I'm starting to fear that they'll elope."

She shrugs. "It's out of our hands, really."

You see, Josh loves Lance. To a point where it's borderline embarrassing. He's only ever reached this level of adoration with Sam, but I actually find it kind of reassuring; the fact that he likes Amy's boyfriend rather attests to the fact that he has no remaining feelings for her. He'd called him "the lumberjack" to begin with, but it was mostly just insecurity, not jealousy. It had hurt his ego a bit that she was no longer pining over him. That's my boyfriend, professional jackass.

But like I said, these days, he _loves_ Lance. It's like this: Josh is constantly surrounded by old white men who make him feel left-wing, but Lance is a fresh breath of air. Josh constantly seeks his approval, hoping his policies are strong enough to impress him. He looks to him as a sort of liberal sensei. It's pretty adorable, actually. Despite an age difference of merely three years, they're completely different takes on middle-aged; Josh all boyishness and energy, Lance all sedate maturity and distinguished grey beard.

"Fair point. Is seven good?"

"Yeah, sounds fine." She smiles as I stand to leave, and my grin is almost devious.

"See you then."

"See you."

Tonight, I'm utterly glad for the fact that the men will be preoccupied. Why, you may ask? Because Amelia Gardner is keeping a secret from me. And I'm intent to find out why.

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When we knock on the door at 7:15, Amy throws it open with a faint smile. Unsurprisingly, my boyfriend brushes past her.

"I smell pizza."

She rolls her eyes. "Nice to see you too, Josh."

He holds up a six pack in each hand. "I brought beer."

"Then by all means, the rudeness is excused." Which is her way of saying that it isn't, but he merely grins.

"Great. Would've haunted me."

Within half an hour, Amy and I are lazing around the living room, watching the program, and Josh is in the kitchen, badgering Lance for his opinion on free and reduced lunches. When a commercial comes on, I cast a surreptitious glance at Amy.

"You don't want a beer?" I start cautiously.

"Not really."

"You've had a long day." I wheedle.

She shrugs. "Alcohol just might make it longer."

That's the hint I was looking for; you see, Amy Gardner _loves_ her beer. "So your boobs are getting bigger."

Her jaw drops. "Donna!"

I wince. "That sounded much better in my head."

It hadn't, actually. But it'd sounded better than _'So you're gaining some weight, huh?'_

She gapes at me. "I hadn't thought you'd noticed."

"I'm... Observant?" Oh god. Things are going downhill.

"Sure, being observant is one thing, but noticing that my breasts are-"

"You haven't been eating normally." I interrupt, for the sake of my own physical safety.

She narrows her eyes at me. "What do you mean?"

"You're queasy in the mornings."

"We're using a different brand of coffee, it's some weird-ass fair-trade blend of Lance's."

"I haven't seen you drinking any coffee."

"Well, since it's so nauseating, I've been cutting back."

"You've been having cravings." Alright. I'm starting to sound like Nancy Drew; I need to back off.

She crosses her arms, staring determinedly at a Glade commercial. "Do you have proof of that?"

"For lunch on Tuesday, you ordered your turkey sandwich with ketchup and brown sugar on it." I had a bite. It wasn't bad.

Her lower lip is starting to tremble. I'm so close. "What are you trying to ask, Donna?"

"I'm just wondering if..." We both know exactly what I'm asking. I take a deep breath. "Amy, are you pregnant?"

She drops her gaze to her lap, one hand absently coming to rest on her stomach. A slow smile spreads across her face. "Yeah."

It's time for my obligatory girlish celebration. "Oh my god! I _knew_ it! Oh, Amy, congratulations!" I'd be hopping out of my chair and hugging her, but she looks a bit unsure.

She nods softly, acknowledging my excitement. "Thanks."

"Aren't you... This is what you wanted, isn't it?" I ask uncertainly. We'd talked vaguely about our respective plans for the future, and both had included kids somewhere down the road.

She wraps her arms around herself. "I want kids with Lance, I do, it's just... Look, I'm all for nontraditional families. I'm all for abolishing conservative standards, and trivial ceremonies, but Donna... I always thought my child's parents would be married."

I furrow my brow. "And Lance..."

"Oh, he'll never ask." She laughs distractedly. "He's not against the institution of marriage, persay, but you know how he is. Governmental decrees of commitment aren't exactly his... Thing."

I nod. That wasn't exactly hard to infer. Considering this, I draw a sip of my beer. "So _ask_ him to marry you."

"I... what?"

I shrug. "Don't leave the decision up to him. Propose. It's not like he'd say no."

She tilts her head at me, pondering the suggestion. "I... I guess you're right."

"If it's important to you, you know he'd do it in a heartbeat." I assure her.

She smiles. "You're right. I... I think I will."

Once more, I'm a bit girlishly excited. "You'll propose?"

She scrunches her eyebrows. "Donna, I was just going to ask him. Casually."

"Oh, no. No no no." I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and staring her down. "Amy, this is a lifetime commitment. You've got to make it a grand gesture."

She looks at me like I've lost my mind. "You're kidding."

"I'm not!" Really, I'm not. "Come on, how often does the woman get to do this? Reclaim the power! Reclaim the romantic gesture! Who says we can't?"

That's not to say that I plan on doing the same. Can you imagine me trying to propose to Josh? Ha. At best, he'd laugh me out of the room. At worst, he'd take it as a personal affront to his masculinity.

A devious smile begins to spread across Amy's face. "That's not a bad idea."

"I am pretty genius." I joke. She rolls her eyes.

"And it'd be one way to break the news to him."

"You... haven't told him?"

"No."

"I'm... the first one to know?"

She purses her lips. "I... guess you are."

I grin at her earnestly, reaching out to take one of her hands. "Congratulations, Amy. Really, you'll be a great mother."

She smiles genuinely for the first time all night. "Thanks, Donna."

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The day she'd chosen, the following Tuesday, dawned bright and warm. I'm humming all throughout the morning, excited for my friend. She wasn't nearly as much of a romantic as I, but had been persuaded into a few aspects of grandeur. For example, she'd be proposing outside, in the summer sun, with many passersby to_ ooh_ and _ahh_. She'd also bought a ring, which hadn't even been my suggestion.

I'd had to assure her that it wasn't too soon, that a year was plenty of time to ensure commitment. Sometimes, I forgot that they had a good six months on Josh and I.

To me, the gesture was perfect; Amy Gardner, champion of women's independence and perpetual pants-wearer, was taking _complete_ control of her relationship.

Pretty great, right?

She'd agreed to let me tag along, and I'd promised that I wouldn't be the bubbly, obnoxious younger sister figure that I became each time she mentioned the proposal. To normalize my presence, I'm dragging Josh along, under the guise of a double-date at lunchtime. I'd broken down and confessed the true intent to him last night, however, under the condition that he not tell Lance. What can I say? It's pretty obvious when I'm keeping a secret, and his dimples are criminally disarming.

So we head out on our lunch break, and halfway to the restaurant, I pull Josh back by the hand to give them space. By the time she pulls out the ring, I'm hyperventilating, and Josh is very poorly concealing laughter. I glare at him.

Let me just say, Lance is a pretty calm guy. But when Amy informs him of their unborn child, he puts his hand over his mouth, and his eyes shine with tears of joy. It's all he can do to nod vigorously, pulling her into a tight embrace.

I'm tearing up. I expect Josh to burst out laughing at any moment; he'd been utterly tickled by the idea of Amy's proposal. To my surprise, he's gazing at me with a faint smile. When I catch his eye, he comes to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"You are gonna let _me_ do that, right?"

That does it. I'm crying.

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"Have you thought about names?" I ask, idly strolling the aisles of the maternity section. She'd finally broken down when she'd been forced to paper clip her loosest pantsuit closed.

"Yeah. A bit." She holds up a flared suit. "Are these people determined to make me look like a beach ball? I'm only two months in."

I gently remove the suit from her grasp. "You won't look like a beach ball just yet, okay? I'll help you find something... Flattering."

She snorts. "What's the point? I'll be twice this size soon enough."

I shrug. "If you want to try that thing on, be my guest."

"Fine, fine. I won't succumb to my inevitable roundness _just_ yet."

I smile. "Okay. Names?"

"Right." She moves to a different aisle, contemplative. "For a boy, I like Jacob."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Jacob Colin Granger. You think?"

I nod. "Yeah. It's nice."

"Or maybe Jacob Ryan... I'm not sure."

"But you're set on Jacob?"

"I think so." She rolls her eyes. "Lance likes the name Ganges."

"Like... The Ganges river?"

"Yes."

We hold eye contact for a few moments before bursting into laughter. I like the way that she's taken to holding onto her belly when she laughs.

I grin at her. "But I'm guessing that Ganges Granger doesn't exactly fly with you?"

"You'd be correct, Donna."

"What about girls names?"

She seems a bit more indecisive on this. "Well... I like Abbey."

"Oh, Dr. Bartlet would be thrilled."

"She would." She agrees pensively, not all the way convinced. "I also like Eleanor, after my other favorite First Lady."

"Ah. Also nice."

"Or Evelyn."

"After the Chief Justice?"

She nods. "Yupp."

"I like that. I really do."

"Yeah? Me too." She gives me a slight smile. "It's my favorite, so far."

"That's good."

She picks up a blazer and scrunches her nose. "This is abominable."

"You can just wear your own, unbuttoned."

She shrugs. "True."

We meander deeper into the department store, oddly quiet. I've noticed her acting a bit down lately, and shopping for larger clothing probably wasn't the thing to cheer her up. I take a deep breath. "Are you okay? You've seemed kind of off recently."

I'd attribute it to the hormones, but it's been a consistent week or so of skulking.

"Have I?" She says absently.

"Yeah." I stop to watch her, concerned. "I'm worried about you, Amy."

That's what gets her. I've never seen that woman cry before, but I could swear that she wipes aside a tear.

"Donna." She says thickly. "Will I be a good mother?"

"What?" I furrow my brow. "God, Amy, you'll... of course you will. You'll be a great mother."

She shakes her head inaudibly, lips pressed tight together. I hurry to her side, a hand on her arm, but she turns her face away. "I'm a bitch."

"No you're not. Amy, you're not. Who told you that?" I'll... punch them, or something.

"Who hasn't?" She laughs miserably. "I mean, not to my face, but it's certainly gotten around, you know? Don't pretend you haven't heard it. From Congressmen, from Senators, hell, from CJ Cregg."

"Amy..."

"For god's sake, Josh hummed _'The Bitch is Back'_ under his breath every time my name was mentioned for two years, and I'm guessing you're the only thing stopping him now. I get it, okay? It's just how I am. I'm cold, I'm sarcastic, I'm..."

"Stop it." I interrupt miserably. "Please, stop it."

"It's true."

"No, it's not! It's not, okay? You're kind, and you're caring, and you're passionate about what you do. And people are intimidated by that passion."

"We both know that's not all there is to it."

"Maybe it's not. Maybe you can be a little cold, but you know, it's only to people who deserve it. And it takes a while for you to warm up to people, but..."

"But what?"

I realize that I'm not generalizing anymore. I lock eyes with her. "But when you do, you're the most wonderful person to be close to."

I've never seen Amy Gardner look so unsure of herself. "Yeah?"

I smile. "Yes. And you'll love that baby so much, I know that you will. You'll teach that kid to take no shit, and get what they want, and fight with everything they've got..."

I've finally gotten her to smile. It's like the sun breaking through the clouds. "Flattery gets you nowhere, Donna."

"You're back." We laugh, and I give her a brief hug.

"Thanks." She whispers before we part. I merely smile in acknowledgment.

"Come on. I'll buy you some maternity lingerie."

She makes a face. "_No_ thank you."

"If not now, it'll be your baby shower gift."

"You're a crackpot."

"I prefer the term 'cute and quirky'."

"Cute and quirky crackpot, maybe."

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**TBC. I'm a sucker for reviews. Thanks for reading.**


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